Riddles Revealed
by erbkaiser
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle does not know his origins, but can he find out about his family? Quidditch Fan League submission for round 7.


**Riddles Revealed**

A/N: Written for Round 7 of the Quidditch Fan League

Team: **Montrose Magpies**

Position: **Beater 2**. Round prompt is the Diary Horcrux.

Prompts used: **1** (word) happy / **2** (word) consolidate / **5** (word) freedom / **12** (colour) magenta

Thanks to my team mates for beta duty. Any remaining errors are my own fault.

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_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

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Tom Marvolo Riddle was a fourth year Slytherin student at Hogwarts. His Head of House, Horace Slughorn, often invited his most talented students to parties which he called the 'Slug Club', and Tom was one of those who often got an invitation.

At one of those parties Tom got to speaking with an older wizard who worked for a Wizarding law firm, Simon Dudderidge.

"Marvolo, you said your middle name was?" asked Dudderidge.

"Yes sir, my mother named me before she expired. Why, if I may ask?" Tom laid on the charm. He had learned early that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar...

Dudderidge pulled on his pipe, then looked over the younger boy. "The name Marvolo is quite rare in our world, and I imagine even more so with the Muggles... in fact, the only family I can recall that uses it is the Ancient House of Gaunt. My firm still retains them as clients, although truth be told, we haven't had much business from them in several generations."

"Interesting, sir. So you think my mother or father perhaps had ties with the Gaunts?" Tom tried to hide his excitement. He was thought of as being from an unknown family, and had had to fight hard to gain the respect of his follow Slytherins... if he turned out to be from an Ancient House, most of his struggles would be over.

"It is likely," Dodderidge commented. Then he saw their host, and waved. "Horace! A moment of your time?"

Slughorn waddled over, "Of course, Simon! Ah, speaking with Mister Riddle I see... a gifted young man, he," the walrus-like man said.

"The young man mentioned he has no clue about his heritage, so why don't you give him a heritage potion?" Dodderidge suggested. "You can have him brew it, it's a valuable lesson."

"Capital idea," Slughorn agreed. "Mister Riddle, let's do so this weekend."

Tom gladly agreed. He had always been curious about his family as the only thing he knew for a fact, because the people at his orphanage told him, was that his mother had named him before her death in childbirth. He did not even know what her name had been, let alone his father's… if his mother had even known. In his darkest moments Tom had feared his mother had been a common streetwalker who had gotten knocked up by one of her low-class "clients".

And so that weekend Tom brewed the potion and mixed his blood with it. Professor Slughorn dipped in a self-writing quill, and they both watched as the quill wrote the results on a peace of parchment.

"Marvelous, my lad..." Slughorn gave Tom a smile. "You are indeed descended from the Ancient House of Gaunt!"

"I am unfamiliar with them, Professor. Are they well known?" Tom asked.

"Definitely," Slughorn said. "They are the direct heirs of none other than Salazar Slytherin, Founder of Hogwarts! Sadly the family has fallen somewhat in decline, and there hasn't been a Gaunt at Hogwarts for close to a century. I believe they are still around, though."  
Slughorn laughed suddenly. "Of course they must be around, you are one of them my boy! Either your father or mother belonged to that family."

"Is there some way to tell, sir?" Tom asked.

"Not without a blood sample from a Gaunt," Slughorn had to disappoint him. "But you, my boy, are most surely an heir of Slytherin. I can't wait until I bring this up at the next Slug Club!"

Tom smiled. Suddenly everything made sense: why a young boy from an unknown family had been sorted in the House of the Pure, Slytherin; Why he could speak with snakes; and of course, why he was the most powerful wizard of his age, only second to – or even equal to – Albus Dumbledore, his popular Transfiguration teacher. It was not often Tom would admit he was happy, but learning he was of the purest of the pure blood was one of those occasions.

After this, Tom decided he needed a new name, and experimented with anagrams. Thus his private moniker 'Lord Voldemort' was born, and under this name his Slytherin associates – not friends, Tom had no friends – came to respect him and even see him as a leader.

So when summer arrived, Tom did not have to return to the orphanage, but could stay with the Pureblooded Rosier family. Ethan Rosier had come to respect his classmate Tom and was one of many in the Slytherin House who looked up to the young man they now knew to be the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself.

The Rosiers had a classy house in the Lambeth area of London. The Muggle city had grown around it, but their home was still very much a wizarding one. Still, he could not be cooped up all day, he needed his freedom. So today Tom was walking through the Muggle streets. The Blitz had mostly stopped two years prior but there was still the occasional bomber that slipped through the RAF defences, but Vauxhall Road was still intact. Tom passed by a newsagent when something caught his eye. On the back wall was an elegant looking black book, and he immediately felt drawn to it somehow.

"Excuse me sir, how much for that journal?" he asked.

The proprietor looked up from his newspaper. "Ey? What was that, young sir?"

"That red journal on the back wall," Tom pointed out. "How much do you want for it?"

"A fine eye you have, young sir," the man said as he put his paper down and took the book from its place. "One of my best diaries. A magenta cover, four hundred pages, and a sturdy spine. Just what a young gent needs to consolidate his thoughts."  
He placed it on the counter in front of Tom and continued, "That'll be one pound and seventeen shillings, young sir."

Tom frowned as he looked in his coin purse. "That is slightly steeper than I was counting on… I apologise for wasting your time," he said.

"Young sir, it's the war… supplies are scarce," the seller said. "But surely one from your family can afford such a pittance?"

Tom looked up sharply, his eyes staring at the man. "One from my family?" he asked in an icy tone.

The man didn't seem bothered as he answered, "You're one of the Riddles, right? You're the spitting image of the baronet's son."

Tom took in a deep breath to steady himself. "Right… right you are, of course. Sadly, I do not have that much with me at this time... I'm afraid the most I can pay at this point is a rounded pound," he said, his tone calm again despite the fact he was seething inside.

"Tell you what young sir, I have an alternative," the proprietor suggested, and took out an elegant black booklet. "Black leather cover, three hundred pages, and normally I'd sell it for a pound six but for you, I'll drop the price to a single pound. Deal?"

"Deal. Thank you," Tom said.

"And a fine day to you, sir," the storekeeper replied as he and the young man exchanged goods.

Tom cordially nodded as he walked off. He waited until he was out of sight before he allowed his expression to darken again. Tom felt betrayed, if the Riddles were baronets, why then had he grown up in poverty? And why had his father abandoned his mother? He swore he would make the family pay, once he found where they lived.  
He decided not to return to the Rosiers yet, but instead went to a nearby library and decided to look up this Riddle family. If the newsagent had recognized him, the family had to be at least somewhat well know, after all.

Tom spent an hour searching through books on the Peerage of Britain with no avail, and angrily slammed the last book on the table.

"Temper, temper!" a nearby librarian said.

"I apologize," Tom quickly said. It wouldn't do to cause a scene! "It's just frustrating... I am trying to find information on a Baronet Riddle, but these books are useless."

The woman stood got up, walked to one of the book cases, and handed Tom a book about the history of Devonshire. "I think you'll find what you need here," she said, allowing a small smile to show.

Tom nodded in thanks, and browsed through it. Finally he found what he needed: The 7th Baronet, Sir Archibald Riddle lived with his family in a village called Greater Hangleton, in Devon, England. With the brief description of the family Tom found a photo of what he assumed to be one of his relatives. He had to admit the man looked a lot like him. Tom opened his new diary, and wrote down all the information about the Riddle family. And his plans for them. Page after page he filled with his revenge schemes. First, he would secure his position at Hogwarts and then the Riddles would pay for abandoning him, he vowed. Tom was looking forward to the next school year... and the rise of Lord Voldemort.


End file.
